


Shadow Sister

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: The Twin Champions [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Post-Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4971367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian Hawke and Garret Hawke are twins. There is more than one Champion of Kirkwall. How would this play out? A series of drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for you folks so uh, enjoy! Please let me know what you think.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Leandra’s death, Anders goes to Marian for advice. He learns a little about both Hawkes on the way.

Two weeks after Leandra’s death and one week after noticing Garrett refusing to use his own magic, Anders sought out Marian. 

He didn’t want to. It wasn’t for lack of love for the Garrett’s twin sister; no, Anders enjoyed her company a great deal. Despite her quick temper and general lack of tact, he saw Marian as a close friend, one of his most trusted in their small group of friends who were quickly finding themselves to becoming a family. If it was any other issue involving Garrett, she would have been his first resource to finding a solution. But this was different. This was Leandra. This was Marian’s mother too, her loss as well. The last thing Anders wanted was to burden her more with the weight of his own observations.

Yet, she was the only expert on Garrett available. Bethany was with the Wardens, Carver was lost to the grip of the Templars, and Leandra, bless her soul, was gone. Thus, Marian remained. 

He found the rogue in the Hanged Man. It wasn’t surprising, Aveline had been recently fretting how Marian was shutting herself away in there, but Anders’ had hoped the rumors had been false. She was at a table in the corner, not one of the ones they usually frequented, chugging away at what was likely not her first tankard. When she saw him approach, she almost curled in on herself. Tensing like she expected him to deliver her more pain. It contrasted the large smile on her face painfully. 

Anders had asked Garrett once, why she was so guarded. He hadn’t offered an answer, claiming it was her tale. All he gave him were table scraps of a past they’d both fled from.

“Marian wasn’t born a mage, but magic cast a shadow over her life as much as the rest of us. She grew up in a house of three apostates, constantly waiting for attack. The same thing that made Caver resentful...well for Marian that tension had other effects. Especially after Father died.” 

It wasn’t much to go on, but Anders could put the pieces together. After the death of their father, Marian must have been thrust into the role of protector for her entire household. Forced to help balance them on the edge of a knife at only 16. It was no surprise she wore both daggers on her back like a second skin.

“Anders,” Marian said, snapping Anders’ out of his own thoughts. She pushed aside her tankard, kicking out the chair across from her to leave room for him to sit down. “What a surprise.”

“Hawke,” Anders said, taking his place in the chair. Marian and Garrett were only called their first names when in the same company; otherwise they were Hawke. Sometimes, Marian’s exploits and her brother’s got so twisted together by word of mouth, that the city thought they were one person. “May I remind you the ill effects of too much brandy?’

“And may I remind you the ill effects of never taking a day off.” Marian kicked up her feet on the table. Her boots looked unfitting for a woman of her stature, more worn and beaten than most peasants. “ So...are you here to just get a drink?”  She gestured to one of the bartenders, and as if on cue, one appeared to pass Anders his own tankard. It was the way he liked it too, herbs included, and for a second, Anders wondered if he was a hypocrite for chiding Marian about her time spent in the taverns. “Or are you here to talk business?”

“Can it not be both?”

Marian smiled, and while the worn look on her face remained, it look almost close to being genuine. Anders took in the dark circles under her eyes and wondered when she’d last gotten a night of rest. Being exhausted was a dangerous burden in their line of work. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” She took a long drink from her glass. “Alright. What is it? And please don’t say giant spiders because I’m still getting webs out of my favorite cutlass.”

“No spiders.” Anders took a sip of his own drink and leaned forward. Last thing he wanted was the other patrons to overhear; while no one in the Hanged Man was in the business of turning in apostate mages, it was always good to be careful about such matters. “It’s Garrett. I’m...concerned.”  

The false humor Marian had plastered on her face vanished at once. It was like a switch was flipped, from uncaring trickster to brutal warrior. Marian removed her feet from the table and stood up straight in her chair. Her eyes narrowed, and dark circles underneath them made her look more dangerous than tired. 

“What happened?”

Anders held up his hands. He knew this would happen; Marian had always been protective of her twin. Garrett’s status as a mage and her father’s request to protect her siblings were only a few of the reasons for the rogue’s concern. After what had just happened, Anders’ didn’t doubt that her mind was turning to the worse case scenario already. 

“It’s nothing dire. Just concerning. He’s not in trouble or anything.”

Marian’s posture relaxed just a fraction at that. She no longer looked like she was about to bolt if needed, swords at the ready. “Alright. Continue.”

Anders frowned, trying to figure out how to phrase his worries. This was a sensitive matter. “I-”

“Spit it out, Anders.”

“He hasn’t been using his magic.”

She clearly hadn’t been expecting that. Her eyebrows rose a fraction, her mouth falling open just the slightest amount. All the tension in her body quickly vanished, replaced with nothing but pure surprise. “What?”   
“He hasn’t been using his magic. Well-I mean-he’s been using it on missions and the like, but as soon as the fight it over...not a single spell. He hasn’t lit the torches in my clinic for a week. When I suggested he use a frost spell to help a patient, he almost recoiled at the mention. Asked me to do it myself. I don’t think he’s noticed I’m aware but-”

Marian held up a hand, cutting him off. Her eyes were closed, and she was clearly thinking about his words. He knew she’d see the problem plain; from the moment Anders had met both of the siblings, Garrett had lived and breathed magic. He offered to create fire spells when the room was too dark. He used frost spells to prank their friends by nipping them with cold hands. He’d heal the slightest wound or bruise if someone was careless enough to let him notice it. Garrett used magic like he breathed, like every spell didn’t put him in danger from the Templars. Anders used to wish he’d shown restraint, if only for his own safety. Now, he’d give anything to have the carelessness back. 

“No magic? Unless it’s necessary?” She asked at last. She sounded as tired as she looked. Anders’ nodded.

“Unless it’s necessary to save one of us, yes. For himself...well he’s been using the knives you force him to carry more lately.” Marian’s shoulders slumped further at that. “I hate to bring this to you, Hawke, I really do, but he won’t talk to me about why. Told me I was being paranoid.” 

That was the short of it. Anders had planned his questioning well, waiting for a time Garrett seemed more open for conversation. He’d cornered him in his clinics after a mission, chatted ideally as he repaired Garrett’s bruised knee. He’d even pressed a kiss to his lover’s hairline before inquiring. It was no use; Garrett had just laughed and said he was overthinking things. If the smile on his face had met his eyes, Anders might have actually believed him. 

“Oh Garrett,” Marian said opening her eyes. She rested her one of her elbows on the table and dragged her other hand down his face. “Of course. I’m such an imbecile.” She looked back to Anders. “It’s to do with mother. The way she... died.”

Anders heard her voice break on the last word. To hear Marian sound so upset took him back to that place, how he’d seen the stitches holding Leandra together, how Marian and Garrett had screamed at the sight of their mother walking as a human corpse. He could remember the sound of Marian’s blades cutting through the killer’s throat, the smoke that rose from the fire Garrett had conjured in his rage. The image of Garrett and Marian holding Leandra’s corpse, both sobbing openly, still echoed in his ears.

He’d known the Hawke siblings for three years now. And before that moment, he had never seen them broken.

“Hawke-” Hawke shook her head, fixing him with a stern stare.

“No listen. This is important.” She took a deep breath. “Back when we were small children, when Garrett was first learning about magic, we ran into some Templars.” 

Anders breath caught in his throat, rage pooling in his stomach. Templars. After Garrett. A boy with no defenses. Justice hissed at the back of his mind at the thought. He pushed the spirit away. 

“It wasn’t a bad moment; they just thought we were travelers,” Marian continued, noticing flicker of inhuman blue flickering in Anders eyes. “But they warned us about mages. In detail. How they’d killed people. How they were evil. Trying to scared mother and father into giving up any apostates they knew I guessed.” She chuckled, bitter, at the memory, her eyes looking up at the ceiling. “God, if only they knew they were talking to a whole pack of them. They really missed out.” Her phantom of a smile faded and her attention was on Anders once more. “Anyway, after that Garrett didn’t use his magic for almost a whole week. Refused to do lessons and everything. He thought-”

“He thought he was going to turn out like them,” Anders said and it all clicked into place. Garrett had lost his mother to magic, lost his mother to something that was a deep part of him. Watched it twist Leandra into a nightmare. No wonder he couldn’t work up the nerve to do any spells; they must have all reminded him of what his power could do. 

“Yes,” Marian said. “Father knocked sense into him, told him there’s a big difference between being a mage and a blood mage, and that was that. But I can see how recent events might have wormed their way into his thick skull.”

“Magic is not evil-” 

“And he knows that, obviously,” Marian said. “It’s just a reminder of a very bad memory.” She leaned back in her seat, exhausted. “You’re just going to have to remind him of that, that’s all. And so will I.” She reached for her tankard and finished off the glass. “Can’t believe I didn’t notice. So much for being a good sister.”

Anders reached forward, putting his hand on Marian’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away from the touch, and for that, Anders began to speak. “You’ve suffered as of late too, Hawke. There is no need to blame yourself.”

Marian’s gaze shot to her empty glass. 

“Mother would claim otherwise,” she whispered.

Anders had nothing to say to that. Platitudes would do nothing here. He just squeezed Marian’s shoulder.

“Marian,” Anders said. Marian looked back up at him; he almost rarely used her first name when her brother wasn’t around. “You are a dear friend. If you need someone to talk to, I am always willing to hear what you have to say.”

Marian smiled. This time it was genuine, almost fond. Her eyes glanced up at the top of the tavern then back to Anders. A sad smile crossed her face. “You know, you’re the second person to say that to me today.”

“They must be wise.”

Marian chuckled at that, loud and actually amused. She wiped a tear from her right eye and smirked. “I’ll have to tell him that. He’ll get a kick out of it.”

Anders could only guess who it must be for her to have that kind of reaction. He decided better than to comment on it; Marian’s choice in companions was her business. Even if her choice was destined to bring her nothing but pain. He stood up and walked over for a quick embrace. Marian hugged him back.

“I am sorry for your loss, Marian.”

When she replied, he could barely hear her speak. “Yeah. Me too.”

Anders left the bar. The elf who’d been watching over the entire conversation from the support beams from the tavern watched him go, before turning his attention back to Marian.

She was right. He did get a kick out of it. But not for the reasons she thought. He’d have to suck up his pride and bring the abomination a bottle of wine as thanks. 

             To see Marian laugh once more, the loss of a little dignity was worth it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian fights the Arishok and Garrett struggles in the aftermath. Anders helps.

Marian ends up with a terrible scar, after the fight with the Arishok.

It’s the worst she’s ever had, which is rather impressive given her checkered history of injuries. A jagged line, it runs from the bottom of her right breast to almost the top of her left hip, the puckered skin a sign of the devastation wrought there. She has a matching one on her back, not quite as long mind you, but in the exact same place, the skin there red and raw. When Anders finally gives her permission to take of the bandages, she makes a show of showing off the new scar.

“It’s quite the looker, huh, Garrett?” she says when she shows him it at last. “Mother’s gonna have fun trying to sell this to potential suitors.”

To her it’s a joke. That’s what Marian does when people try to fret over her; joke. She always has. But rarely has she done it to Garrett himself.

It makes him want to throw up.

“She’s a fool,” he complains to Anders later. He’s at the mages often these days, lingering in his space like the bird of his family name. Anders doesn’t seem to mind, smiling at the sight of him no matter how he lurks. “She could have been killed.”

“She saved the city,” Anders says. “Foolishly, mind you, but she did it. There’s something to be said for that. You would have done it yourself.”

Garrett leans forward. Pictures his sister’s smirk before she walked forward to fight the man twice her size, her swords strapped to her back. When she’d been coughing up blood as Anders and Merrill tried to keep her breathing, that smirk was still on her face. 

“That’s the point,” Garrett says. “I would have done it. But she did. And she didn’t have to.”

“She wants to protect you,” Anders says, putting down the gauze he was rolling up and walking over to Garrett. Garret shakes his head.

“She doesn’t have to. I’m a grown man. I’m a fellow champion of Kirkwall. I can conjure fire by snapping my fingers.” He does just that, letting the flame flicker a second before it goes out. “I’m no longer a child. I am not a scared boy needing protection from the Templars. Why can’t she understand that?”

Anders walks over to him and sits down. His hand wraps around Garrett’s shoulders easily enough. 

“Marian does not see you as weak,” he says, voice soft. “Far from it. Would she let you go off to fight blood mages alone otherwise?” 

Garrett thinks back to the numerous cases she’d let him run off with only his staff on his back. Anders has a point. “Then why-”

“Because she sees you as something worth protecting,” Anders says, like it’s simple, like it’s basic fact. “And she can’t afford to lose you as well.” 

Garrett lets that sink in. He’s right, he’s terribly right, and it hurts. He forces a smile and turns to Anders. “Since when have you become an expert on my sister?”

Anders chuckles. “I’m no such thing. I just understand where she stands on this.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. It’s soft and warm, and Garrett tries not to be caught off guard by it. This thing between them is still new after all. He pulls back and places his hand on Garrett’s cheek. “She’s not the only one who sees something they can’t lose.” 

Garrett lifts his hand to cover Anders at that. The other mage runs hot, and Garrett can’t help but smile at the warm palm on his face. It’s comforting. Like coming home after a long day. 

Anders is right; his sister has good reasons to keep him safe. But that doesn’t mean Garrett is going to let her throw herself into her grave at his expense. Not if he can help it.

Years later, as the demon roars above them, Garrett hits his sister with a sleep spell and places her into the Inqusitor’s arms before she can even move to volunteer. Tells the rest of them to run. As they flee with broken expressions, he turns back towards the monster in front of him. Raises his staff.

“Take care of her for me, Anders,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

The warmth of the fire that erupts from his staff is his last comfort before the demon lunges. 

It’s enough to remind him of home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett is overprotective and Marian is gonna kill him.

“Your brother is angry with me.”

Marian looks up from her papers and sighs. The one time she settles down to work on her mounting pile of letters, Fenris decides to stop by; it figures. He probably snuck in, he seems to have an aversion to doors, and she can almost picture him sitting in in the armchair behind her. Or perched on it. She doesn’t turn away from the stack of papers in front of her, to do so would admit defeat, and instead decides to try to have this conversation while still being somewhat productive.

It’s a fools errand. She’s never been productive at business she’s filed as unimportant in her life, and these letters may be the most unimportant task she’s ever had to tackle. But she tries anyway. If only to say she made an effort. 

“Which one? You’re going to have to be specific.” 

“Garrett.”

It’s the answer she’s expecting: Carver is too busy cuddling up to the Templars these days. Now the question is why Garrett is after Fenris this time. The two get along well despite Garrett being a mage, but that doesn’t mean they don’t butt heads. 

“Oh really? Did you call Anders an abomination again? Because he tends to get irate when you insult his boyfriend.” 

Marian isn’t sure what reply she’s expecting from that. Her words could either spark another tirade from Fenris about her brother’s choice in men, or if could just be met with a disgusted noise. When Fenris speaks, however, it is neither. 

“No.” There is a pause before he speaks again. “He has accused me of hurting your feelings.”

Marian’s thoughts come to a stop. She can almost hear them crash in her skull. Garrett had said what? About her? To Fenris?

She’s going to kill him. She’s going to take his staff and stick it so far up his ass that he’ll have to go to Anders to get it out. She’s-

“Hawke,” Fenris says again. Marian forces herself to look at him. Her wound from the Arishok hurts at the movement, but she commits to it anyway. He’s curled up in her armchair as she expected, but he looks more nervous than she’s ever seen him. And she’s seen him fight things that have given them both nightmares. “If I-”

She holds up her hand. He’s not allowed to give himself a guilt trip over this. She’s not going to let him. “Fenris. My brother was out of line. You have not hurt my feelings.”

It’s a horrid lie; of course he hurt her feelings. He left her after only one night, told her that there was nothing she could to do to fix it. Marian’s heart is not made of stone; it can fracture, can break. Watching Fenris shut her door had sent cracks through what little that was left undamaged. 

But she can’t hold it against him. Because he was just as fractured as she was. He was just as torn. He walked out not out of spite, but to keep what little of his stone heart remained intact. And for that, she refuses to make him feel terrible about it. She knows what it’s like to be barely holding it together. 

“But-”

She forces herself to look at him. Forces a smile on her face as well. Tries to remember a time when they were just friends. She is talking to her friend. That’s all. That’s all they’ll ever be.

“My brother was out of line. You have not hurt my feelings.” She forceS her smile wider. “Maybe bruised my pride slightly, but nothing time cannot heal. ” Fenris is still looking at her with that wounded expression of hers and she pushes further. “I’m serious. I do not blame you for what happened. Garrett is just trying to protect me from hurts that are not there.” 

The wounded expression fades just slightly. “You swear-”

“On my non-existent honor,” she says. “I’ll make sure Garrett stops pestering you. But in the meantime-” She grabs one of the letters behind her and lifts it in front of her, fanning it in her face. “Would you like to take me up on those reading lessons?”

Fenris scowls at the piece of paper. “What is it?”

“A letter from the guard about new patrols. Riveting, I assure you.” Fenris snorts. She gestures to the empty chair next to her. “Well? Don’t you want to learn about the patrols we must now avoid on our more unsavory adventures?”

That seems to do it. Fenris smirks and stands up, walking towards her to sit down. Marian turns back to the desk to put the letter on it, ignoring the pain in her torso from her still healing stab wound. Fenris grabs the letter in her hand.

Marian tries very hard not to think about how the red scarf she gave him as a token of her favor is still on his wrist.  


	4. Chapter 4

Marian began training a month after her fight with the Arishok.

Garrett didn’t approve; her wounds were still healing, the long cut down her torso still bleeding when she moved too much. The idea of his sister running with her daggers once more seemed ill advised. But Marian had insisted ( _I’m going mad, Garrett_ ) and Garrett had relented. It was better to help Marian train than to force her to sneak around and get herself hurt.

“I don’t remember these being quite so heavy,” Marian said as she picked up her daggers the first day. They were in the courtyard, their usual practice grounds, and the fine weather couldn’t ease the worry in Garrett’s stomach. Marian looked too small for her armor now, her muscle gone from her recovery. The wound had done it’s damage, but the fever and infection that had followed was the thing that had really stolen his sister away. She twirled one of the daggers and smirked. “You think I could convince someone to engrave these with my new title?”

That was the Marian he knew. The Marian who hit herself behind jokes and aggression, who burned bright in the face of fear, who hid behind a mask at the sight of pain. Always the protector.

Garrett was wondering if anyone would ever convince her that she should start protecting herself.

“Only if you’re willing to drop enough coin to buy new ones,” Garrett said, taking out his staff. He cast a quick spell on their training dummy, something simple, and the straw filled man rose from his stake to shake out his limbs. “Are you ready to fight our old friend?”

Marian smirked. Her face looked bare without the red war paint they both sported. “Bring it on, straw for brains.”

The fight went quick. Even weakened, Marian managed to deal with the straw man quick enough. Her movements were slow, her breathing labored, but the dummy hit the ground when she turned just in time to shove a dagger through his neck. Garret placed his staff back on his back and walked over to Marian.

“This was a lot easier a few months ago,” she said, still breathing hard. Her hands gripped her knees. “So much for my Champion status; I can barely even take down a dummy.”

“It’s your first day back,” Garrett said. “It’s impressive you took one down at all.” He reached for one of the wooden daggers they kept near the dummy and threw Marian one. She caught it, letting her own weapons clatter to the ground. “Now how about you give it a try against someone with a little more meat on his bones.”

Marian grinned. Honestly grinned. Grinned like she hadn’t since mother died, since the world went to shit, since both of them were thrust into the role of Champion. Garrett had missed that grin.

“Bring it on.”

As Marian charged, Garrett decided he would endure his sister’s foolishness if only to bring back that grin again.


End file.
